


Sparring Practice

by fabulousanima



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, Sloppy Makeouts, Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-15 02:33:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8039047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabulousanima/pseuds/fabulousanima
Summary: Sparring practice in the gym gets a little heated.





	Sparring Practice

**Author's Note:**

> This is completely cliche and most certainly done before but I DO NOT APOLOGIZE.
> 
> A big thanks to @thesirenserenity, @waitformethistime, and @roadakamelot for looking this over! It helped a lot to have eyeballs on it. :) You guys are awesome!

* * *

 

He’s wrapping the gauze around his hands when the door to the training room slides open.

“Oh Shiro,” says Allura, her accented voice lilting in surprise. “I didn’t realize you’d be here. I thought Keith had finished up and the room was empty.”

“No, I decided to squeeze in a quick training. I can let you have the place, if you want,” he offered, voice light.

“No, no, we can certainly share.” She starts tying her long white tresses into an elegant knot at the top of her head. “If I am in your way, you can let me know.”

“You’re never in the way, Princess.”

The smile across her face is sincere as she begins to stretch, turning her back to him, but a flush still crawls up his neck. Shiro tries not to watch the graceful curve of her spine as she pulls her arm across her chest, tries to concentrate on tying up his gloves.

Once he finishes, he approaches the corner of the hall that contains the weights. They are programmable, so he sets them to a difficulty just a bit higher than he’s ever attempted, and begins to lift them.

Allura glances at him from the corner of her eye. Shiro smirks slightly. One of her curved eyebrows inches up, and she turns away to continue stretching.

“Don’t get too distracted, there.” His tone is teasing.

She snorts, unladylike yet somehow incredibly enticing. “Won’t be a problem, I assure you.”

Letting out a grunt, he counts. 24... 25... 26...

There is a whir as one of the walls comes away to reveal two long elastic bands attached to a metal rod. Allura makes a show of tying them tightly around her wrists and Shiro fights back a grin. She turns her back on the rod to face the middle of the room and begins to practice punches, working against the resistance of the bands.

Shiro watches her technique. It is alien but now familiar, the way she twists and turns her body. Alteans seem to be a bit more flexible than the average human; it would be fascinating to study their anatomy.

Well. There is one Altean anatomy he’d like to study intimately.

It’s amazing how similar they seem to be to humans. Her body curves out and in and out just as a human woman’s would, and the strappy cloth she wore over her top shows just enough cleavage that leads him to believe that what was hiding under there was very similar to what he was accustomed. He watches as a bead of sweat slowly drips its way down her forehead, along her neck, over her collarbone, and down between the valley of her breasts. He loses track of how many reps he’s done.

She clears her throat. His eyes snap to her face. She caught him.

“Shiro,” she says slowly, thoughtfully, lingering over every syllable as she unties the resistance bands from her wrists, “if you want to practice together, you need only ask.”

Without intending to, Shiro licks his lips. “I-If you want.” He coughs into his shoulder, then sets down the weights. “I’m happy either way.”

She turns to him, massaging her wrists. “I’d like to,” she says in a definitive tone. Something burning hot settles in the pit of his stomach.

So with a grin, he stretches his arms over his head. Shiro doesn’t miss the way her eyes travel over the curve of his chest as he pulls his arms back. A smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

They walk towards the center of the arena, eyes locked on the other. Allura settles into a lower stance, lifting her arms in front of her. Shiro copies her movements.

“I promise not to go easy on you, Princess.”

She smirks. “I can’t make the same promise.”

Without any more preamble, she darts forward. Shiro only just manages to dodge to the right as her hand whizzes past his ear; he can feel the breeze. He drops low and tries to knock her off her feet with a sweep of his leg, but Allura gracefully backflips out of the way, moving towards the edge of the training circle. She lands, a grin stretched across her face, then charges again.

She thrusts. He parries. She lunges. He attacks. She defends. He retreats. She advances. He swings. Theirs is a dance that has no language save for their heavy pants and the soft thumps of their blows making contact. They might have been born thousands of years apart and millions of lightyears away, but their balance is well matched, their steps in line, their breathing in sync.  
Shiro can’t help but be impressed with Allura. He knows she is a warrior first and a princess second, but he has never seen someone fight like she does: like poetry, like a song. Her movements are graceful, flowing from one to the other without pause. She almost seems to read his mind to match his attacks. She is lithe, she is smooth, she reminds him of--

Shiro grins. She reminds him of a lioness.

But his moment of appreciation does not go unpunished, and she wraps a leg around his midriff and flips him over, upending his feet. Shiro manages to catch his weight with his arms, but not without wobbling, and Allura immediately presses her advantage. She tries the same move that Shiro had earlier, and as he rolls out of the way, he admires the long curve of her leg. She twists and sends a punch at him from behind, and as he dodges below it, her admires the torsion of her taut muscles.

A wild grin adorns her face.

Shiro feels one match it on his own face. He throws a direct punch at her face, knowing full well she will catch it with her own palm. She does so and draws him in. He can smell her scent: distinctly non-human but not unpleasant. It reminded him almost of a forest: earthy, dark, wild. The loamy smell of soil after a rain. The smell of life. He drags his other arm across and she catches it as well. They are trapped in a tight embrace, noses inches from each other’s. He can count her lashes.

“Nice job,” she pants, then shoves him backwards. Shiro allows his weight to fall, then uses the momentum to tuck into a roll, dodging her next attack. He uses his legs to trap her extended arm, and uses all his strength to fling her away. She lands several feet outside the training circle like a cat on all fours.  
No chance to catch his breath; she pounces. Allura is a flurry of punches and parries, and it’s all he can do to keep up with her. His heart is pounding, feeling the rush of adrenaline overwhelming his senses.

A fancy move almost costs her the lead; she tries again to twist around and hit him with the back of her hands, but he catches her. For the briefest moment, her back curves against his chest, the space between their heated bodies nonexistent, and he almost taste her neck -- until she shifts and drops out of his grasp, pivoting to once again face him.

He is losing ground. Each step he takes backs him farther away from the training circle. As one last ditch effort, he tries to gain some ground and throw one last punch, but she reads him like an open book, and his back is against the wall, her eyes boring into his.

His robotic hand rests just against her collarbone, the faintest hint of violet around it.

Allura takes a deep breath, then lets it out slowly; he feels it wash over him. Her mouth curves again into a smile, but her eyes grow hooded. She moves forward, brushing against his Galra hand to close the last gap between them.  
Her lips are barely against his, just a hint of touch, feather light but impossibly warm. Shiro parts his lips without thinking, and feels the touch of her tongue against his. There is a slight shiver that seems to travel up both their spines; she tastes so different than anything he has ever known. Her eyes lock onto his as she presses forward almost imperceptibly. Their mouths, alien to one another, fit together like a lock and key. He watches as her eyes drift closed, and she deepens the kiss.

Electricity is singing through his veins. He runs his robotic hand along her bare shoulder, wishing he could feel the warmth off her skin -- but she doesn’t pull away, doesn’t flinch, only raises her own hands to the base of his head to trail her fingers through his short hair.

Shiro is lightyears from Earth, yet has never felt more at home than that moment, hand slowly tracing circles into Allura’s shoulder. Her heady smell is making him almost lightheaded, feeling weightless, a loss of gravity. Years in space, and she is the thing that makes him float the most.

She pulls back slightly and opens her eyes, watching his mouth with a darkened gaze. Slowly, she presses her lips against his once again, deliberately, tasting him thoroughly. He can taste just a hint of her sweat; it tastes like a human’s. The thought makes him tighten his hold on her.

A purr comes from deep in her throat. He chuckles against her mouth, which only makes her kiss him harder. He presses against her, wanting to touch her, wanting as much closeness as she will allow. She is a princess, and he is her knight, and he will do anything to please her--

_“Allura! I think Pidge did something she wasn’t supposed to, because the castle is making weird noises and there is maybe some blue stuff leaking out of the walls--”_

_“I’m sure it’s fine!”_

_“--and I think you need to get up here, where ever you are. Uhh, yeah, please hurry.”_

Hunk’s voice crackles out over the intercom, and they pause, the moment between them stretching like a gossamer thread.

With a sigh, Allura steps back, the spell broken. “I suppose I better see what the problem is,” she says, voice distant. Shiro is still leaning against the wall, his lips feeling swollen and bruised, his body still aching for every part of her. She turned back to him, her hair coming out in light tendrils. Her eyes were bright and playful. “But I think we’ll need to resume this again soon.”

A slow smile spread across his face. “Anything for you, Princess.”


End file.
